


Trials, Plans, and Bastard Angels

by GoodandIneffable



Series: Good Omens Fic Week [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Swap, Crowley as aziraphale, First Kiss, M/M, Trials, aziraphale as crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodandIneffable/pseuds/GoodandIneffable
Summary: Includes: Crowley taking Aziraphale's place in Heaven's trial, as well as Aziraphale taking Crowley's place in Hell's trial and being just enough of a bastard for Crowley to fall in love with all over again.i.e. Aziraphale tricks Crowley into thinking a simple handshake isn't enough.





	Trials, Plans, and Bastard Angels

**Author's Note:**

> aaahhhhhh I wrote this in study hall today cause i've been dreading writing a body swap but this is actually kinda cute? aaaaaahhhhhhhhh

**-Heaven, After Armageddon **

“Your damned boyfriend can't save you now, Aziraphale.”

Crowley swallows. “He’s not my-“

“Oh shut up,” Uriel snarks. “We have records of angels who feel love over a certain threshold. Does the time stamp May 11, 1941, London mean anything to you?”

“No, of course not-“ He freezes as the events of that date resurface. “Not at all.”

“You fell in love with a demon that day, didn’t you?”

“Pardon?” Crowley nearly chokes as Gabriel approaches him. It’s hard to maintain the facade of Aziraphale’s angelic outside with such an accusation. 

“Crowley. The one you’d said you never even met. The one you have indeed been carrying out.. relations with.” As Gabriel says this, Michael tosses some photos to the floor in front of the chair Crowley’s tied to. He glances at them and takes in a hollowed-out gasp. Of course, they knew. _ Of fucking course, they knew. Did Aziraphale know they knew?_

“It’s hardly… _ relations… _” The word leaves Crowley with a nasty taste. “Simply good business. Nothing more than an old demon trying to tempt an angel.”

“Yes, well you don’t see Beelzebub in my office every other day, now do you?”

Crowley makes a face but doesn’t respond. _ Why the hell would they be in Heaven? _

“You’ve really done yourself in for it now Aziraphale,” Uriel laughs lightly as the little demon boy brings out the bucket of hellfire. 

“Oh dear,” Crowley sighs. _ This’ll be a damn piece of cake. _Rather on brand for Aziraphale too, to be thinking about cake in a time like this. 

**-Hell, After Armageddon **

“No saving grace, Crowley, just you and your consequences.”

Aziraphale avoids looking through the glass on the other wall, the sheer number of eyes staring making his borrowed skin crawl. 

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Beelzebub asks from their throne. Aziraphale shrugs. 

“It’s rather cold here today. Did the heating go out?” He’s met with a loud groan from Hastur. Dagon stretches out an arm and points to the tub parallel to the glass window. It’s full of water. “Oh, for Satan’s sake.”

“The holiest of waters.”

Aziraphale sucks in a breath, a rush of almost but not quite excitement rushing through him. “Well then.”

“Let the punishment fit the crime,” Hastur says, then nervously takes a step away. 

“Just one thing,” Aziraphale sighs and adjusts his (Crowley’s) shoulders. Beelzebub nods for him to continue. “Can I take the jacket off?”

**-The Bookshop, After the Trials**

“I can’t believe they bloody bought it,” Crowley, still inhabiting Aziraphale’s body, laughs. 

“I must admit, I’m rather surprised as well,” Aziraphale nods as he gently shuts the shop door behind them and locks it. Crowley cringes, seeing his own body say those words is.. Weird. 

“How’d an angel like you fool Beelzebub?”

“I know you well enough,” Aziraphale smirks. “I just pretended I had the ego of a hellhound.”

“You know I’m not that... Talkative in Hell right?” Crowley raises a brow at him. 

“What do you mean? You said you send memos every-”

“They’re not a fan of me down there, so I stick to the walls and do my job,” He shrugs. “Well, not to the fullest but enough to repel most angels.”

“Everyone Upstairs thinks you’re ho-” Aziraphale pauses. “The bee's knees, in only the way an angel can view a demon with importance. You mean to say they’re just paranoid?”

“Unfortunately,” Crowley laughs. “Probably were just paranoid about losing their best Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“Well.” Aziraphale takes a pause. “Seems to me, Heaven’s already lost me.”

Crowley leans against a thick case of books and watches Aziraphale from across the room. He mulls his next words over for a bit, wondering if he’ll ever have another chance to be in Aziraphale’s shoes again. The love and warmth and purity of the feeling in his being right now is almost too much to give up all at once. 

“We ought to swap back then?”

Aziraphale lets out a long, but quite soft, sigh and nods, making his way over to where Crowley is slouched. “Yes, we probably should.”

Crowley takes hold of Aziraphale’s hand and grasps tightly, the entirety of his mind focussed on the switch, and they both let their eyes fall closed. Aziraphale, on the other hand, is certainly enough of a bastard to be worth knowing, as his energy is being spent by keeping himself rather comfortable in the demon’s body. Crowley, piloting Aziraphale livid blue eyes, looks up at him, surprised. 

“What happened?” He asks. Aziraphale, cheeky Aziraphale, shakes his head.

“I’m not quite sure,” He says. “Perhaps we’re not close enough?

“Close enough? What in Fuck’s sake does that mean?” Crowley coughs, shifting almost uncomfortably. Aziraphale puts a hand on each of Crowley’s shoulders.

“Think about switching back, and close your eyes. I think I have something to try.” Without question, Crowley obeys and waits, expectantly, for the angel to do something. He startles when he feels Aziraphale press his own lips to Crowley’s (Aziraphale’s). Both of them feel a deep tug in their stomach and when their eyes open, they see each other in their own bodies with their true eyes. Crowley blinks at Aziraphale, eyes wide and bright and almost all golden. Aziraphale simply grins at him in response, blue eyes glittering. 

“You absolute bastard,” Crowley finally says.

“So you didn’t enjoy yourself?” 

“I-Well, no- that’s not the point! You- What made you do that?!” He cries, stamping his foot a little. Aziraphale laughs.

“I made me do it, my dear.”

“On purpose?!”

“I don’t believe I’d kiss you for any other reason,” Aziraphale says as he adjusts his blazer.

“Bastard!” Crowley huffs again. “You had it all planned out and-” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale stops him. “Of course I had it all planned. And if perhaps you’d like for me to kiss you again you only have to ask.”

Crowley stands there in the middle of the bookshop, staring at Aziraphale until he can get his brain back up to making comprehensible sounds. 

“Angel?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I wouldn’t… exactly _ mind _ if you did that… again…” Crowley whispers. 

“Yes, my dear.”


End file.
